Day 1
Walking up to the house made him uncomfortable, like he was trespassing. It was the type of house he had only ever seen in movies. In Malibu, a place he had only ever heard about through rap songs.
Except now, it was his. He bought the place a month ago, shortly after the initial wire from the sale.
“All because people loved an app I made in a dorm room.”
As Jace was walking up to the front door, trying to figure out how to even open the huge thing, it swung open from the inside.
“I was starting to think you were never gonna show up,” she said dryly.
Her name was Ivy Rowe. 22. Recent Harvard grad. Personal assistant. Scarily sharp. Definitely smarter than him, not that he’d admit it. Jace still didn’t know how she knew when the rest of the world didn’t.
She looked nothing like a personal assistant. Not that he had ever even met one before. She had on loose jeans, a white tank, and gold jewelry that was catching the sun like it didn’t know it was supposed to be subtle. She stood there like this was her house, not his.
“Just waiting for everything to be settled,” Jace responded.
“Oh, do you need anything else to feel comfortable?” she asked, gesturing to literally everything around them.
He smiled. “Smartass.” The warmest thought he’d had all week.
It disarmed him more than it should’ve. Lately, people had gotten nicer, and he hated it. This was the closest thing to a roast he’d heard in months.
She turned and walked back inside like she hadn’t just made the richest man she’d ever met feel like the new kid at school.
Jace followed, slow at first, still getting used to the idea that this house was technically his. The floors were stone. Everything was white, beige, linen, glass. The air smelled expensive, but lived-in, like someone had already made coffee this morning, like someone had already opened windows and played music and reset the security alarms.
Because someone had.
Because she had.
“I left your room untouched,” Ivy said. “Didn’t wanna guess what makes a billionaire sleep better.”
Jace didn’t respond, he was too busy trying to take in everything around him.
The kitchen was bigger than most houses. Two islands, two sinks, a fridge that could feed a small village. One of the islands already had her stuff on it: laptop, AirPods, and a half-finished iced coffee sweating onto a coaster.
It stopped him for half a second.
“You seem pretty settled in,” slipped out without thinking about it.
“You said to treat the place like it’s my own,” she quickly responded while grabbing a seat at the island.
Jace lingered in the kitchen without meaning to. He felt like a guest here. Going to his room felt like crossing some invisible line, like claiming something that he didn’t feel qualified for.
He glanced back at Ivy. Same spot. Back on her laptop now. She didn’t ask if he needed anything else. Not uninterested, but certainly not impressed.
“Do personal assistants typically move in?” he asked.
Without looking up, she replied, “Only when your boss is a 24-year-old who still doesn’t know which side of the house his bedroom’s on.”
She made him smile again.
“Logan said you’d be like this,” he replied, watching her not look at him.
She finally looked up for a second, “Like what?”
“Unimpressed,” he said with a slight shrug.
“Lucky for you, impressing me doesn’t matter,” she said. “I just need you to answer texts and not forget your passport when we travel.”
“We.” It caught Jace. Said so casually, like it didn’t mean anything.
***
They ate a few hours later. Not a meal. Just… something. Enough to feel.
Ivy pulled a container from the fridge and popped it in the microwave.
“Couscous,” she explained. Quickly adding “like quinoa” after realizing Jace didn’t know what couscous was.
He stood near the fridge with a glass of water, watching her move like she’d done this a hundred times already.
“You prepped this?” he asked.
“Mariela did,” she said. “I just know where it’s hidden.”
He smiled. “Right, the chef.”
“Your chef,” she corrected him.
She leaned against the counter while it reheated, arms crossed, eyes on the floor like she was scanning it for flaws. Not out of judgment. Just instinct.
He still wasn’t used to the place. The floor-to-ceiling windows. The way the light slid across the marble like it belonged there more than he did. The sunset spilled into the house straight from the ocean. Every surface pristine. Every detail expensive. Like he’d get in trouble if he touched anything.
“You eat here?” he asked.
Ivy looked up, slightly confused. “Where else would I eat?”
He shrugged. “I don’t know. I figured someone like you would have a reservation on a rooftop somewhere.”
That earned the faintest smile. “I eat where I live. And I’m not the billionaire.”
The microwave beeped. She slid the container in front of him, handed him a fork, then grabbed another for herself.
He followed her to the curved dining nook, mostly because he wasn’t sure where to eat in this place… and because he didn’t want to go back to his room just yet. They ate in silence. Not awkward, just quiet. Like neither of them needed to fill it.
Even while eating, her movements were steady, and her posture perfect, the kind of natural grace that made him wonder if she ever did anything without thinking about it. Her brown hair, loosely tied up. A few pieces falling out, but even those looked intentional. Routinely doing quick checks of her phone, even while eating. Efficient and habitual, not performative.
Jace caught himself. He started feeling more at ease than he preferred. He was sitting next to someone he had only met a few hours prior. He usually would’ve felt uncomfortable, at least a little bit.
She broke the silence very casually, “The rest of your stuff is coming tomorrow. It’s being dropped off at noon.”
“You really planned all this?” he asked in an almost dazed way.
“No. I planned the people who planned all this. Except for security, Logan handled that. You know how he is about that stuff.”
He nodded. It shouldn’t have been a surprise, he knew it was her job to manage his life. But living in it felt different. This didn’t feel like his place. It felt like hers, but he didn’t hate that.